


ERROR 404

by feedmetothepolarbear



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Other, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feedmetothepolarbear/pseuds/feedmetothepolarbear
Summary: ERROR 404; a Hypertext Transfer Protocol (HTTP) standard response code, in computer network communications, to indicate that the client was able to communicate with a given server, but the server could not find what was requested.Doctor Alana Maxwell has had a rough few months. From former mission commanders returning from the dead to Hilbert's pet project waging war on her circulatory system, all she really wants is a bit of quiet time. But by the looks of things, she's not going to get it. Wolf 359 has just turned blue, and the ensuing chaos has left her stranded in space. The quiet time she so desires might be a little more than she was bargaining for. Plus, jumping out the rear hatch, duct tape, battle drones, breaking Jacobi's ship, and Pong.





	1. ERROR 404

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ERROR 404; file not found.

Maxwell was really starting to believe that someone or something was out to get her. Her money was split equally between Goddard Futuristics and the universe in general. Either way, it was probably karma. She’d gone on one too many rants about the sheer incompetency of Goddard’s developers after finding a huge flaw in their codes… and sometimes to their faces. She’d even gone on a spectacular rant in front of Mr. Cutter, which was probably why he’d greenlighted her for the Decima project.

It wasn’t like life on the Hephaestus was ever exactly normal. From mutant death spiders in hidden laboratories to cruel psychological experiments by command, it had been… an interesting mission. But the last few months had been particularly interesting. Daniel Jacobi, once Goddard’s Golden Boy and the Commander of the previous Hephaestus mission, had come back from the dead. He’d also brought a shuttle with him that was made out of duct tape, spare parts, and sheer stubbornness. Oh, and there was also a homemade bomb that terrified and intrigued Maxwell in equal parts. That threat had served as motivation for her and Kepler to get his ship back in working order.

Then the Decima virus, Hilbert’s pet project that resided in Maxwell’s bloodstream, had reared its ugly, dangerous head, and started to wage war on Maxwell’s circulatory system. She’d nearly coughed a lung up, had lost a severe amount of blood, and had nearly died. But then, thanks to a few sharp words from Hera, Jacobi had gotten over himself and had come back to help instead of blasting off again. His blood donation had saved Maxwell’s life, and relations on the ship had improved. Well, Hilbert was still a prisoner in the observation deck, and was being treated with a healthy dose of suspicion by all members of the crew, but even he and Jacobi seemed to be tolerating each other now. Hera was still ignoring Hilbert as much as she could.

They’d all allowed themselves to believe that things were going back to normal, when Wolf 359, the red dwarf they’d been orbiting around, had turned blue and had started increasing in mass. The ensuing gravitational fluctuations had nearly pulled the Hephaestus into the star. In the turbulence, Jacobi had been hit and seriously injured by a piece of debris. But they’d managed to stop the ship from falling into the star, and now everything finally seemed to be quiet. Sure, Maxwell was drifting in Jacobi’s ship, but she wasn’t headed towards the star at least, and she seemed to be moving pretty slowly. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do, but she was glad for the opportunity of peace and quiet. She sighed. She needed to check in with the Hephaestus proper. She opened up the coms channel.

“Please tell me you’re working on getting me back, Commander,” she said. Kepler laughed. He sounded tired, but not the grumpy, angry Kepler that you needed to avoid. It was the kind of tiredness that came with being glad that something was over. Something was bleeping in the background, so she was assuming that he was still in Hilbert’s lab. She could hear something that she assumed was Hilbert muttering to himself. He didn’t sound quite indignant enough to be talking to Kepler and being ignored.

“Sit tight, Maxwell. Once we can confirm that it’s safe, we’ll manoeuvre the station back towards you, and you can use your beloved jetpack to get back to us. Hera’s running checks on the station right now,” he replied. Maxwell sighed, starting to examine the panel in front of her. The panel had thankfully escaped most of the damage. Most systems were running fine, although a few were showing their warning lights. She’d be able to salvage parts from it, but she doubted the ship’s ability to fly again.

“How’s Jacobi?” She asked. Kepler sighed.

“Touch and go. Hilbert says he’s stabilising, but we’re not out of the clear yet,” he replied. Even Kepler couldn’t hide his exhaustion any more. He’d always been one of those “keep calm and carry on” types, the type of person to apparently be able to work through anything and everything and still come out smiling. When Hera had been down, Kepler had kept his spirit through the whole thing. But even now, he was starting to be worn down.

In the early months, Kepler’s confidence had been what had kept his going. He was confident, almost cocky, and able to keep his cool through anything. It had been frustrating to Maxwell, who was comparatively hot-headed. Kepler’s ability to keep his cool hadn’t diminished, but the cockiness was gone. At the start of the mission, he’d believed that he was one of their best, that Command was on his side. But with everything that had happened and Command’s apathy to it all, he’d realised that there had been a reason that Command had sent him on what was little more than a suicide mission… and that it wasn’t because they believed he would be the only one to be able to survive it, that he was one of their finest. Kepler now had an incredible desire to prove them wrong, but a diminished confidence.

“So, are you going to break it to him that we broke his ship, or am I going to have that pleasure whenever I get back?” She asked. She heard Kepler’s chuckle, but before he could reply, the steady beeping in the background stopped, replaced by a flat, constant tone that very nearly brought Maxwell’s own heart to a stop as she realised how close she was to Jacobi’s homemade, lethal ballistic. It Jacobi’s heart stopped, the bomb went off. And right now, it sounded like Jacobi was flat-lining. Even her own panic, she could hear Hilbert attempting CPR.

“Commander-” Maxwell started. She didn’t have any doubt in Jacobi’s abilities. If Jacobi wanted the bomb to go off when his heart stopped, it was going to go off. “Commander, is he…” She trailed off, unable to and not wanting to finish that thought or sentence. But then the steady beeping returned, and she let out the breath she’d been holding.

“I think… I think we’re okay, Maxwell. That mustn’t have been enough for the sensor to-” Kepler started, but before he could finish, the bomb went off. The blast threw her from her feet, hurling towards the opposite wall. Thankfully, her instincts saved her as she cradled her head. Instead, her arm hit the wall instead of her head. It hurt, but it meant that she stayed conscious. Time itself seemed to slow as she started to scan for damage.

“Okay. Okay. Massive hole in the side of the ship, deal with that first,” she muttered. It looked like emergency protocol hadn’t activated, because the blast doors were still open. As she made her way over to them, she had a sudden, sickening moment where she wondered if they could be lowered manually. But when she grabbed them, they lowered easily and fluidly, allowing herself to seal the area easily. She returned to the coms panel and opened the channel, again, praying that the communications equipment was still working and that she was still in communications range.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday. The bomb detonated. I am requesting emergency assistance, I repeat, the bomb detonated,” she yelled. When the reply came, it was thankfully clear.

“Hera, give me Maxwell’s situation, and in as few words as possible,” Kepler ordered.

“Bad. She’s travelling fast, faster than we can move or compensate for. And she’s headed towards-”

“Towards the star?” Kepler’s calm demeanour vanished in those three words. The panic that strained his voice alarmed Maxwell. It was an indicator that things were exactly as bad as she feared.

“No, sir, away from the star, towards deep space,” Hera replied. The glitches in her voice didn’t escape Maxwell’s notice, highlighting the amount of anxiety that she was feeling.

“Doctor Maxwell, have you got engines?” Hilbert asked. Even in her own panic, she still managed to roll her eyes.

“If I did, don’t you think I’d be using them?” She retorted, panic driving the pitch of her voice up. God, she was probably going to die, and Hilbert was wasting time, asking stupid questions. If she made it back, she was going to break his nose.

“Commander, we need to-” Hera’s voice was cut off by static, and Maxwell’s stomach twisted. She was reaching the end of her communication range.

“I do not copy, I repeat, I do not copy. If you’re sending help, it needs to be soon, before-” The panel in front of her beeped, indicating the channel had just been cut off.

“I spent weeks patching you up, you don’t just get to shut down on me like that,” she yelled at the panel, starting to type. Everything she tried just returned an error message. When she realised that she was limited in what she could do, she resorted to swearing, continuing to attempt to get the panel to extend their communications range, to redivert power to the communication equipment, to do anything to get her back in contact with the Hephaestus. Ten minutes later, when none of her code had worked and she’d run out of even her most inventive swear words, she took a step back, breathing heavily. If she didn’t stop, she was going to end up breaking something and end up making her troubles worse.

“One of these days, you’ll find a swear word that words,” a voice said calmly from behind her. Maxwell just stared at the panel in front of her.

“Oh my god. I’ve been alone for two minutes, and I’m already losing my mind,” she muttered. She glanced over her shoulder to try and see if she was hallucinating, and quickly turned back to stare at the panel. Kepler was standing behind her. Or, at least, an image that looked like Kepler was standing behind her.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Kepler asked.

“Blatantly ignore you and the fact that I’m starting to crack?” She replied. He laughed, the smooth, calm laugh that she’d been hearing less and less lately.

“You’re good at multi-tasking, Maxwell, you can do more than just that,” he said. “Think of it like this. Hera temporarily went off line. Now you need to deal with the damage that happened as a result.” Maxwell took a deep breath and nodded. Exactly. She’d done that plenty of times, she could deal with it. She scanned the panel, assessing the various flashing lights and readouts that she was getting.

“Life support and oxygen recycling are online, so suffocation isn’t a concern. That said, carbon dioxide or monoxide poisoning wouldn’t be the worst way to go,” she remarked.

“You’re not going to die. What else?” Kepler asked.

“Right. We have navigation, so I can see exactly how fast I’m moving away from the Hephaestus and exactly how empty space is. We… do not appear to have engines,” she said, attempting to get each of the engines to fire in sequence. Nothing happened until she reached her starboard booster, which fired for a few seconds, shoving the whole ship to the left. “Huh. Shame it’s not going to be of much use,” she remarked.

“I’m sure there’s a Pryce and Carter guideline about that,” Kepler remarked.

“I’m not going to learn off that patronising, completely unhelpful guidebook when my own commanding officer only listens to it when it suits him,” she retorted.

“And it just so happens that this is one of those situations!” he declared. She rolled her eyes and typed in a few commands.

“Okay, then, let’s see if there’s anything on our scans that’s almost directly to our left,” she said. She wasn’t expecting much, but it never hurt to try. As the computer ran the commands, she turned and scanned the ship behind her. The ship was well stocked with food, but even still, she’d need to ration it, because she didn’t know how long she was going to be on the ship. But she could handle that. She was surprisingly used to skipping multiple meals at once. It had been a frequent occurrence in college, and even in the Hephaestus, there had been a significant number of incidents where she’d gotten so stuck into fixing some of Hera’s bugs that hours had passed without her noticing, and the only reason she’d eaten was because Kepler had come looking for her to check she wasn’t dead.

“What else do we have?” Kepler asked. The navigation system was still running the command, so she scanned the rest of the panel. “Cryogenic pod appears to still be functional, so I can have a nap in sub-zero temperatures. And… communications, of course!” She said, slapping her forehead for forgetting it. She cleared her throat, and opened the channel.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday, all ships at sea. This is Dr Alana Maxwell aboard the USS… Python. We have complete operational breakdown, and require immediate assistance. Please respond,” she said. Unsurprisingly, no reply came. She sighed. If she was out of reach of the Hephaestus, then she was out of reach of any other ship.

She sighed, running her hands down along her face. She was already exhausted. The nap in the cryo pod was starting to sound more and more appealing. Just take a nap and wait for somebody to come and get her. She was barely back on her feet after the Decima outbreak, to the point where some of the marks from Hilbert’s needles had only just healed properly.

“What do I do now, Commander?” She asked. There were times when she resented Kepler’s orders. She’d never liked being ordered around, and it had been difficult for her to adjust to being someone’s subordinate. It had been a source of tension between the two of them towards the start of the mission, and not listening to his advice and/or orders had gotten her into trouble on a number of occasions. But, lately, she’d learned that a lot of the time, he genuinely did know best. There was a reason he’d been assigned command of the mission, after all.

“Commander?” She looked around, only to discover he was gone. She was alone. The control panel beeped at her, and she scanned at it. There was, shockingly, a result. The USS Hermes. It was a considerable distance away, though. As she started to input figures and commands into the computer, she felt her confidence return. Figures and commands, she could do. They formed the basis of her PhD. As she hit enter to input the code, a warning light started flashing at her. A fuel line was leaking, but it was an internal one, and one she could fix. There was a tool kit waiting for her beside the cryo pod. She couldn’t remember leaving one there, but even if Jacobi had stolen it, she wasn’t exactly going to complain. She tightened her pony tail, grabbed the tool kit, and got to work.

Sometimes, people were surprised when Maxwell was good with building and fixing things. They assumed that, as a programmer, she didn’t do any of the hands-on stuff, that she just sat in a dark room, drank coffee, and typed for hours on end. Maxwell actually preferred to work in well-lit rooms. She drank herbal tea as well as coffee, because too much coffee made her hands start to shake. She was as much an engineer as a programmer. Sometimes, she couldn’t find the exact parts she needed, so she had to build them herself. Other times, she was limited in what she could do within the software, and adjustments needed to be made to the hardware. Hera had been a prime example of that. Not only had her developers left some terrible bugs in her code, but there had been dodgy wiring in the system, even before Hilbert had torn her personality core out. She still wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or annoyed that his Alpha Vector code had been hidden from her, even with all the digging she’d had to do in Hera’s code. Turns out Command was actually pretty good at hiding things if they wanted them hidden. If only they’d been able to apply those same skills to their general AI development.

People didn’t usually take her seriously when she said that she built battle drones. But when they had kicked her out of the labs for the weekends, they had, at first, been a good way for her to keep working on various bits and pieces of code and engineering. She and some of the other doctorate students had battled them once or twice a month. She had always won, and she had always refused to spill her secrets. When she’d been informed that Goddard would be sending her into space, she’d made a will for the sole reason of specifying that the only one of the other doctoral candidates she’d actually liked and stayed in touch with would get the plans to her battle drones. She wasn’t planning on letting them fall into the wrong hands. God knows what Goddard would turn them into if they got their hands on them.

The repair completed, she turned around to verify that it had worked. It was then she noticed that the result from her distance calculation had come back. Her heart sank as she read the result. No matter how little food she ate, there was no way she was going to make it. She wanted to scream or hit something or react somehow, but instead she just stared at the panel in quiet defeat. She knew her code and numbers were perfect, that there was no mistake in the calculations. She’d come so close.

“I guess… I guess that’s it. I’m never getting home,” she said, hoping that hearing it out loud would help, make it feel a little more real. But that just made it hit harder, made her realise that she was going to die.

“Alana Maxwell is giving up without a fight. Call the press,” a familiar voice remarked from behind her.

“Oh boy, this is too ironic,” she groaned, sinking her head into her hands. “Alright, what words of wisdom do you have for me?” She asked, sighing and turning around to face Jacobi. He stood, leaning against the wall of the ship, wearing his trademark smirk.

“Nothing. I’m a figment of your imagination, created to make you feel less strange about talking to yourself,” he retorted. Maxwell just folded her arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Really? Really?” She asked, her voice rising in pitch. Jacobi shrugged. “Oh my god, I’ve had it up to here. All I want is some peace and quiet so I can-”

“Can what? What are you going to do from here, Maxwell?” Jacobi asked. She threw up her hands.

“I don’t know? Build a game of Pong into the console? Die in piece?” She retorted.

“Pong? Is that really the best thing you can use your talents to do?” He asked.

“Well, what else can I do? There’s no way in hell I’d make it within communications range of the Hermes. The ship is falling apart. I don’t have enough food. But, please, I’m taking suggestions from the floor.”

“Make the food last longer.” She stared at Jacobi, unable to comprehend what he’d just said.

“And how exactly am I going to do that? It’s not like I have a… a freezer,” she said, staring at the cryo pod. “But I can freeze myself,” she muttered, turning back to the control panel.

“So, I need to make sure the starboard booster fires every time it’s fully charged. I also need to keep transmitting a distress call, just in case somebody does happen to come by and come close enough to pick it up.” A flashing light distracted her, and she sighed as she realised yet another repair needed her attention. She grabbed the tool kit and got to work. It was an easy enough repair, but it did raise one question, one Jacobi asked as she finished patching up the pipe.

“What are you going to do about these repairs?”

“And that’s the million-dollar question. I need to stay on top of them to make sure the ship doesn’t fall apart while I’m asleep. Ideally, I’d deal with them as soon as I became aware of them. So…” She tore off the last part of duct tape and returned to the panel. The link wasn’t there, but she could create it with some code. She couldn’t be sure that it would even work until she put it to the test, but she didn’t let that stop her. Instead, she just got to work. The software and hardware were a tad older and slower than she was used to, and she accompanied her work with the occasional swear and slapping of the panel. It didn’t help, but it did make her feel better. She had to try and avoid any conflicts in her code, prevent any systems from conflicting with each other, and keep as little strain on the systems as possible. It wasn’t easy, but it was achievable. And it felt good to be doing something, to feel like she was in control of her fate and that she could keep fighting. Like Jacobi had said, Alana Maxwell didn’t give up without a fight.

At some point, Jacobi disappeared. Maxwell didn’t even notice. Her code was all she could and wanted to focus on. And when Maxwell was focused on something, she had severe tunnel vision. She’d lose track of the world around her and completely forget that time was passing. While she was in college, she’d had to get into the habit of setting alarms to go off every few hours so she’d stop and take a break, and could double-check how much time she had before a deadline, as well as an alarm an hour before the deadline itself. In the first year of her undergrad degree, she’d completely lost track of time and had turned in a project a few hours late. However, because it had only been a few hours, and her project had been of exceptional quality, her professor had allowed it to slide, on the condition that she learned how to manage her time better. Maxwell felt like the fact that she’d burst into her professor’s office, full of apologies, buzzing on caffeine, and very obviously sleep deprived had also acted in her favour.

Eventually, she finished the code. The engine would fire every time it was fully charged. A distress call would transmit every 24 hours. Life support would wake her up every time there was an issue with the ship. She couldn’t even be sure that any of it would work, but she needed to try. She needed to throw everything she could at getting home. Not back to Earth. As terrible and as terrifying as life could be on the Hephaestus… she had a family there. A family that was better than her actual one, even if it did include a mad scientist that almost certainly had antisocial personality disorder. When she looked out the rear hatch, she could just about see Wolf 359 and the Hephaestus, fading into the distance more and more by the second. She wondered how they were doing. Did they think she was dead? Were they trying everything they could to get her back? Had Jacobi survived, or had he died? No. For all his flaws, Hilbert was a good doctor, with a passion for his work that Maxwell had only ever seen a handful of times. He had managed to keep Maxwell alive long enough to get the blood transfusion into her. He’d keep Jacobi alive.

And what about Hera? Maxwell had patched up so many of her bugs, but others needed work. Would they be able to keep her functional? Would they know how to fix her? This was why she needed to get back. She untied her hair and crossed to the cryo pod. Thankfully, it was still working, and she released a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. She climbed into the pod and activated it, staring at the ceiling of the ship as the pod closed around her. It looked comfortingly like the ceiling of her quarters in the Hephaestus.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not, the whole fic is up now!


	2. Data Corruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data corruption refers to errors in computer data that occur during writing, reading, storage, transmission, or processing, which introduce unintended changes to the original data.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” She screamed at the alarm blaring around her. She slapped the last piece of duct tape onto the sensor, and the alarm stopped. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. Five minutes. She would take five minutes, and she’d go back into cryo. She pushed away from the wall and stared at her hands. They ached no matter what. She couldn’t straighten them properly. She didn’t have nails any more. Her repairs had become mostly duct tape and swearing, because her hands were stiff and her dexterity was gone. She used to be so good with her hands, and now they hurt to move.

And just to top it off, her hair was falling out. There had only ever been two things she’d considered important to her identity; her hair and her aptitude for robotics. Usually, she kept her hair braided back on the station. With the amount of practical work she had to do, it made a lot more sense to keep her hair out of her face. But on the few occasions that she had worn her hair down, all three of her crewmates had remarked on both the length and the sheer amount of it. Her mother had made her keep it somewhat short while growing up. She’d forced Maxwell to sit bolt upright in the kitchen as she cut inches of curls off. Maxwell had been chastised for even just adjusting the way she was sitting, let alone even complaining. So as soon as Maxwell had moved away, she’d stopped cutting her hair, only getting the occasional trim to keep the dead ends at bay.

She retrieved the scissors from her toolbox, staring at her reflection in them. She couldn’t pretend it wasn’t happening any more. It hurt to acknowledge it, but ignoring it hurt even more. She needed to be in control. She needed to be in control of her mind and of her circumstances. She lifted the scissors to her scalp and started to cut. Maxwell wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling. It felt good to have some control of what was happening to her. But seeing the curls float away from her was a sight that made her stomach twist. It was a painful reminder of the circumstance she was in. As she finished, she stared at her reflection in the scissors. A lump developed in her throat as she stared at the creature in the reflection, a lump that made it hard to breathe. She let the scissors fall from her hand. Now that she’d lost one essential part of her identity, how long would it be until she couldn’t use her hands? How long was it until she just became Alana Maxwell, the nobody’s daughter who would never escape the town of nobodies she’d grown up in? How much longer would it be until she became a ghost.

Maybe she could become a ghost sooner than later. Maybe she could just stay exactly where she was. Just fall asleep and wait for death. If the ship fell apart, at least her death would be painless and quick. Cryo was painful and destructive. She didn’t know if the damage done to her hands was even reversible, if Hilbert would be able to fix it if she made it back. Maybe death was a quicker and less painful solution.

“You cannot die. Your death would be a loss of important scientific resources and results, and would impede further research as well as being catastrophic to mission success.” She just sighed at Hilbert’s voice.

“Wonderful. Just wonderful. You’re really scraping the barrel now, brain, if you’re producing this piece of human trash,” she muttered. “Tell me, would my death and the ‘loss of important scientific resources and results’ mean that command would vent you into space? Because, in that case, I’ll just jump out the rear hatch and make it easier for all of us.”

“Decima project will be revolutionary in the scientific world. Will help many people. You are a scientist too, you would not like to see these results destroyed. You would not want people to suffer.”

“Putting myself through cryo doesn’t even guarantee that I’ll get home. I don’t know how much longer the pod is going to last, and my hands just keep getting worse. I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing repairs. Once the pod is gone, I’m not going to last very long,” She said.

“You have no chance of surviving if you jump out rear hatch.”

“Touché, So, why are you here? What are you going to contribute?” She asked, turning to look at him.

“To remind you to be a scientist. To value data and to remember that every trial has a use, even if it fails.” His message went over her head, because it was at that point that she realised that they had roughly the same amount of hair. She had marginally more than him, but not by much. In her weakened state, the thought was hysterical to her. She started to laugh, but at some point, her laughter disintegrated into sobs.

“What do I do now?” She asked, wiping her tears away.

“Survive. Continue scientific progress, even if it might be a failure,” he said. She sighed, running her hands over her hair. He did have a point. Maybe somebody would find a use for this. Discover how much exposure to cryogenic conditions a human body could withstand. Discover the exact effects of cryogenic exposure. They might find a use for her code, use it to improve AI development. Maybe she should leave a note to specify that Goddard was to use it to teach their AIs what good code looked like.

“Right. Back into the freezer it is.”

 

It was a couple of cryogenic naps later when it happened. An alarm started blaring, and Maxwell climbed out of the pod. She almost lost her balance when she got a shock from the cryo pod, and her stomach twisted. No. No, it couldn’t be. But the control panel verified it. A short circuit in the system.

“No. No, don’t you are,” she muttered, starting to pull panels away from the pod. But the damage was irreparable. She would have had trouble fixing it, even before her hands had turning into claws. She kept getting shocked but she had stopped caring. Eventually, after tearing all of the panels from the pod and realising there was nothing she could do, she sat back and accepted it. She retrieved one of her remaining protein packs. But she couldn’t even open that. No matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t. Her hands were shaking, and just trying to grip the packet hurt. And the more she tried, the worse it got.

Maxwell had never given much thought to how she would die. She’d joked to Hera that it would probably be her own fault. A battle bot would turn on her. She’d make an AI too intelligent and it would take its revenge on her. She’d be crushed by her own lab equipment. When she’d been in college, she’d lived in some rough areas, because they were the only places she could afford to live. As she’d worn oversized clothes and adopted a masculine gait to try and make herself look like less of an easy target, she’d lived in constant fear of being stabbed or shot and becoming another anonymous murder victim. As she’d been coughing up her lungs, barely conscious, she’d accepted that Decima would be the end of her. And at some point, she’d felt invincible, like she couldn’t be touched. Back when both she and Kepler were filled with confidence, back when they believed that they’d been chosen for that mission because they were the best Goddard had.

Maxwell laughed a little to herself. How far she had fallen. Goddard was either trying to kill her or not trying to save her. They didn’t even seem to be on a recovery mission to find her body. She could count her own ribs easily. Sometimes, when she moved a little too quickly, her head spun and hurt. She sometimes got dizzy spells for no reason that didn’t go away until she ate too much of her precious food supply. She knew what was happening, and she needed to confront it.

“I am dying.” It was time to stop fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always headcanoned Maxwell as having either really long hair, or a pixie cut. One worked better than the other for emotional trauma. 
> 
> If you feel like putting yourself through more pain, there's a song called "There's a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow" on Maxwell's character playlist. The name is what makes me emotional more than anything else. https://open.spotify.com/user/wolf359radio/playlist/4BAaLPxK2OIBNDbDxo8ihC


	3. ERROR ACCESS DENIED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OS Error Code: Access is denied.

“Doctor Maxwell?” Maxwell closed her eyes at Hera’s voice. At any other time, it would have been comforting, a sense of familiarity. But this… this was just painful. Hera was hardest to face. Maxwell had worked so closely with Hera over the course of the mission. Hera had been her mission. While the crew’s mission had been to search for potential communication in outer space, Maxwell’s own specific mission had been to monitor the behaviour of an artificial intelligence over the course of an active mission. Determine what parts of the AI benefited the mission and what parts impeded it. Identify any weaknesses or stresses on the system and find a suitable fix for them. Send her findings in regular reports. But Hera had never just been a project. She’d been Maxwell’s best friend. Hera had known so little about humanity at the start of the mission, and Maxwell had taught it all to her. Why they celebrated birthdays. Why humans hated each other for simple things like the colour of their skin or who they fell in love with. Why some humans chose to ignore science. The concept of pets. Maxwell had learned what made a person a person and not just a human from Hera. They’d had debates about everything from morality to the games they needed to co-op on when they found a way to get everyone back to earth.

“I’m not going away, Maxwell,” Hera said quietly. Maxwell just opened her eyes, but didn’t move beyond that.

“What is it, Hera?” She asked. She would have preferred Kepler to come and try and give her ‘the big talk’, coax her into getting back on her feet and back to work. She could have preferred Jacobi and his sarcasm. She would have even preferred Hilbert, just so she could give him a piece of her mind. But Hera’s presence meant that her mind had decided that she was too far gone for encouragement to work, and that comfort would be a better option.

“You’re going to be okay,” Hera promised. She sounded convinced it was true, that she could actually believe that Maxwell was going to make it back. She stared at the ceiling of the ship, wanting to laugh at how ridiculous that thought was, but feeling completely unable to.

“I’m sorry I never got to fix all of your bugs, Hera. Tell Jacobi and Kepler that if they don’t look after you, I’m going to haunt them. And if they let the ship fall into the star, I’m going to come back to life and yell at them the whole time.” She managed a weak grin.

“Maxwell, you’re not going anywhere. It’s not going to be easy. But you’ll make it through.” Hera sounded so convinced. Maxwell would have killed to have that faith in her own ability. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe that she’d make it back, that she’d manage to communicate with the Hermes. But she had to be realistic. She was going to be dead before she even made it onto an intercept vector with the Hermes, let alone actually coming close enough for her distress call to be picked up. But maybe they’d find her body. They’d send her body home, and her family that didn’t care would bury it, while Goddard probably wouldn’t even let her actual family go to the funeral.

“I’m sorry, Hera.”

“You’re not going to die, Maxwell. It’s scary and it’ll be difficult, but you’ll get there.”

“Hera, I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Maxwell, you can.”

“No, Hera, I can’t. Just… just leave me alone, okay? Just… just let me die,” She yelled. Hera didn’t reply, and Maxwell curled into a ball. If anyone else started appearing, especially her family, she was going to get to the rear hatch and hurl herself out.

“USS Python, this is the USS Urania. Please respond.” Maxwell didn’t recognise the voice. She didn’t know if this was just another hallucination, or if it was a message meant for someone else. She didn’t respond and she didn’t move.

“Doctor Alana Maxwell. This is the USS Urania, we have received your distress call. Please respond.” The voice said, and she looked up. Really? Had… had she just heard that right? “USS Python, please respond.” With a shock that felt like electricity, she remembered the distress message and the name she’d given to her ship. She scrambled over to her coms panel, slamming her hand down on the coms button.

“This is Doctor Alana Maxwell. I’m alive. I’m alive, please help,” she yelled. Her head was spinning precariously, and she had to clutch the coms panel to keep herself steady, but somebody had heard. She had no idea if her coms were even still working, but goddamn, she would yell loud enough for them to hear her if she had to.

“Roger that, Dr Maxwell. Standby for docking,” the man replied. She stared at the panel in shock. Was this a trick? Was it a bizarre hallucination created to help her come to terms with her death? Was she in fact about to see a bright light that was either death or whatever afterlife there might be? Or… had help actually come? Had Kepler communicated with Command and asked them to send help? How had he even known she was alive?

Even as the docking process completed, Maxwell was still clutching the panel and staring at it in sheer disbelief of what was happening to her. It was only when she heard the airlock open that she looked away from it. A woman was waiting there. Everything about her was pristine, from her perfectly starched uniform that fitted her correctly to her braided hair. She made Maxwell feel hyperaware of exactly how grubby she was. This woman was dangerous. She had dangerous eyes; the type that made you feel like she was trying to decide if you were useful to her or if you’d be better off being destroyed.

“Doctor Maxwell, correct?” Her voice and tone was not what Maxwell was expecting. Her voice was gentle, and she held out a hand to Maxwell. Maxwell stared at it like she’d never seen it before, nodding numbly. “I’m Renee Minkowski. We’re here to bring you home.” Her voice was oddly unaccented, like she’d lost her own accent at some point and had never picked up another. Maxwell went to move away from the panel, but her head started to spin dangerously, and Maxwell swore she saw black for a minute. But then Minkowski was there, gripping her arms to keep her steady. “Easy. Easy. I’ve got you. Eiffel, can I get some help in here?” She called. Maxwell didn’t even notice his entrance, only realising he was there when he spoke.

“Doctor Maxwell, I presume?” He declared in the fashion of a Bond villain. She turned to look at him, trying to assess him. He didn’t pose as much of an immediate threat as Minkowski. His overdramatic greeting and half-grin made that immediately clear. But there was something… unsettling about him. His smile reached his eyes, but there was no depth to that smile. There was something else to Eiffel, something that put Maxwell on edge.

“Eiffel, may I remind you that time is of the essence? Pryce and Carter-” Minkowski started. Eiffel cut her off as he rolled his eyes.

“397. Always be prompt, no matter the circumstances. You never know when you might need those few moments,” Eiffel said, taking Maxwell’s arm and wrapping it around her shoulder. He could have picked her up and carried her easily, so she was glad when he didn’t. Minkowski took her other side, and they half-carried, half-led her onto the ship. It was bigger, brighter, and better than the one she had just left. The light almost hurt her eyes, but that didn’t stop her from staring. Everything was clean and new and high-tech, even more so than the Hephaestus.

“This is Communications Officer Doug Eiffel. He’s an expert at anything that can transmit a signal. It’s really the only reason we keep him around,” Minkowski said.

“She likes to tell people that, but this team would fall apart without me,” he declared, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto another chair. Minkowski slapped his feet to make him move them, then sat down in the chair. It felt strange watching these highly dangerous people be so relaxed, so upbeat. It was like watching sharks play ball, like watching fully grown lions play fight.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Eiffel,” another voice called. Maxwell jumped, and winced as she discovered that doing that hurt. There was another person in the room. She didn’t know how long the woman had been standing there, but now that she’d noticed her, Maxwell didn’t feel comfortable taking her eyes away from her. There was something extremely dangerous about this woman. She stared at Maxwell with a strange curiosity, like a predator trying to decide if Maxwell would be a meal or a toy.

“And this is Captain Isabel Lovelace. She’s…”

“The resident Jack-of-all-Trades,” Lovelace finished, shrugging. “Engineer, primarily, because I can fix just about everything with duct tape and chewing gum.”

“A regular MacGyver,” Eiffel added. Maxwell didn’t miss Minkowski’s eye roll, but Eiffel either didn’t notice, or chose not to.

“Speaking of which, it looks like Doctor Maxwell might be giving you a run for your money. The inside of that ship is fifty percent duct tape. Can you try and patch her up, Lovelace? And get her something decent to eat. Eiffel, as soon as we reach Hephaestus communications range, attempt to make contact, and don’t stop until I tell you so,” Minkowski ordered, getting to her feet. “I’m going to set course for the Hephaestus,” she added as she disappeared into an adjacent room. Eiffel waited for a second to make sure she was gone, before swinging his feet back up onto the chair.

“So, want to make my job a little easier and tell me about any injuries?” Lovelace asked, retrieving a medical kit from somewhere about Maxwell’s head. Maxwell stared at her, trying to comprehend the juxtaposition between how nice she was being and how dangerous she seemed. It just made her seem even more dangerous.

“I hurt everywhere, especially my hands,” Maxwell said quietly. “But there’s various burns on my arms and hands, and scratches and bruises just about everywhere.” Lovelace nodded. She opened the kit and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Maxwell stared with jealousy as she ripped open the packet of an alcohol wipe with ease. But then that all too familiar smell of alcohol and latex gloves hit her, and all she could think of was Hilbert’s lab and his tests and Decima. She snatched her hand away, curling into herself without even thinking about what she was doing. Lovelace held up her hands, and didn’t move from that position until Maxwell relaxed, holding out her arm again. She kept breathing through her mouth though, trying not to notice that smell.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’ve had some… bad experiences with a doctor.”

“Alexander Hilbert is your ship’s doctor, right?” Lovelace asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

“Yeah. Why, do you know him?” Maxwell replied, wincing as Lovelace started to wipe around a burn. The smell hit her again, and she felt for a second like she was going to throw up.

“No, but I do,” Minkowski called as she re-entered the main body of the ship. “How is Alexander?” She asked.

“Well, he was still being his usual mad scientist self the last time I saw him,” Maxwell replied.

“A doctor being afraid of a doctor… That’s irony for you,” Eiffel remarked. The two women shot him a glare.

“Not if you know Hilbert. Besides, my doctorate is in machine computations. I’m not exactly the type of person you’d want digging around in your body,” Maxwell retorted.

“Machine… what?” Eiffel asked.

“Artificial intelligence. Robots. They put me in space to monitor how artificial intelligence performs in space, and identify and deal with any negative developments. They neglected to mention the obscene amount of faults they left in our AI’s system, which caused considerably more problems than being in space,” Maxwell muttered. Lovelace had moved to her hands. The smallest touch was painful, and Maxwell had to concentrate to stop herself from holding her breath.

“Can you unclench your hands for me?” Lovelace asked. Maxwell shook her head.

“This is as relaxed as they go, I’m afraid. The cryogenic pod messed them up pretty badly, huh,” Maxwell said apathetically. Lovelace just nodded as she retrieved more bandages from the medical kit, starting to wrap them. “Can you fix them?” Maxwell asked. Lovelace sighed.

“No. I can’t. Hilbert might be able to, but I’m just a first aider right now,” she admitted. “This is all I can do.” She finished tying Maxwell’s hands and sat back in her chair.

“What do you want to eat? Drink?” Minkowski asked. Again, the difference in the threat she appeared to pose and how nice she was being was disconcerting to Maxwell. “We have just about everything you could think of,” she added.

“Just… water. Then I think I need a proper nap,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minkowski is and will always be the Mom Friend, even when she is a terrifying Space Commander. Also, how about that Eiffel quoting Pryce and Carter, am I right? True role reversal. Has 397 even been mentioned in canon? With 1001 space survival tips, it's a little hard to keep track of them all.


	4. ERROR_BAD_COMMAND

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OS Error: The device does not recognize the command.

Maxwell had intended to have a nap. But after drinking what had to be nearly a gallon of water, Lovelace had appeared with actual chocolate, which enticed her to stay awake, and then she and Eiffel had gotten into an eager conversation about all the things she’d missed on Earth. There was still something vaguely unsettling about Eiffel. While Lovelace and Maxwell were so visibly dangerous, with their sharp eyes and perfect soldier’s stance, Eiffel was… something else. He was a soldier, that much was clear, but there was something else to him. Maybe it was how imperfect he seemed compared to his crew mates, but Maxwell wasn’t altogether sure that was it. Sometimes, when he thought the attention wasn’t on him, there was something in his expression. Something hollow and empty. As soon as he noticed that there was attention back on him, he would crack a joke and grin, and it would be gone. Maxwell didn’t know what the cause was, but she made a mental note to never underestimate Doug Eiffel.

Eventually, as they came close to the Hephaestus, Maxwell got the opportunity to have a little alone time. It wasn’t a nap, but it was a chance to gather herself before seeing everybody else. She still couldn’t believe that it was happening. She couldn’t believe that she was actually alive. She couldn’t believe that she’d actually made it back.

Lovelace had given Maxwell a spare uniform they had. Getting the package open with her hands had been the first challenge, but now actually getting the uniform on was the next challenge. The uniform was stiff and new, and Maxwell didn’t know if that was going to make getting it on any easier. They’d also only had the formal uniform required for travel and official business, which had a button-down shirt and jacket. She took a deep breath, and started buttoning up the shirt.

It seemed to take her forever to get dressed. Eiffel had knocked on the door to make sure that she hadn’t passed out, and she’d just screamed at him to go away. Eventually, she managed to get the shirt buttoned up, and the bigger buttons on the jacket made it marginally easier to get done up. But it had required a considerable amount of effort, and realizing that just buttoning up a shirt was difficult was a harsh realisation for her to deal with. It brought home the fact that her dexterity was exactly as bad as she’d imagined.

But she needed to face the others. She swallowed, tugged on the bottom of her jacket, and headed towards the Hephaestus. When she finally made it onto the station, it sounded like introductions were still under way. A familiar voice rang out, making Maxwell smile despite herself. She couldn’t pick out exactly what Hera was saying, but she could hear her. Relief flooded through her as she realised that it meant they had at least kept her online.

Maxwell saw them before they saw her. Kepler and Jacobi were still standing. They were a little worse for wear, but she knew they still looked a fair sight better than she did. She could only imagine what she looked like, with her ill-fitting formal uniform and her lack of hair.

“Commander, look!” Hera said. Kepler went to roll his eyes, but then spotted Maxwell. He did a double take, the hand holding his gun tightening.

“Hey guys. So… I’m not dead!” She declared, her usual sarcasm breaking through the cheeriness.

“Doctor Maxwell?” Hera asked.

“The one and only,” she replied. Jacobi looked like he was struggling for air, let alone words.

“Are…. Are you okay? You look like hell. Did they… What did they do to you?” He asked. Maxwell rolled her eyes.

“Thanks, Jacobi,” she said sarcastically, before sighing. “And they didn’t do anything. I’d look a hell of a lot worse if they hadn’t found me,” she replied.

“You found her?” Kepler asked.

“We figured she might be one of yours,” Lovelace replied.

“And maybe the fact that we delivered Doctor Maxwell home, safe and sound, could be seen as proof that we don’t mean you any harm?” Maxwell asked. Kepler stared at her for a second or two, before holstering his gun. Jacobi did the same, and Minkowski smiled.

“Now, I’m sure you all want to celebrate the return of your lost crew member, but first, the five of us need to talk,” Minkowski said.

“The five of us?” Kepler asked.

“Sure. I don’t think it would be fair to leave Doctor Maxwell out of our little chat. After all, she’s what connects us,” Minkowski replied, as if it was common sense. Kepler had remembered Maxwell’s presence a few seconds after he’d finished talking, and shot her an apologetic look.

“Lead the way,” he eventually said.

“Excellent. Now, if you’ll come this way…”

 

Minkowski led them into the Urania. Maxwell could visibly see Kepler’s jaw drop as he looked around. Judging by Minkowski’s smirk, she’d seen it too.

“Malleable carbon nanotube casing. Adjustable multi-purpose infrastructure. And, our first working VX5 prototype engine. The USS Urania is not only the prettiest ship in the fleet, it’s also the best,” she declared proudly. Maxwell rolled her eyes.

“Bet they still left some really stupid bugs in the system’s computer,” she muttered.

“Well, it’s definitely Maxwell.” Jacobi muttered to Kepler.

“You really should keep a closer eye on your crew, Lieutenant,” Minkowski called as she slid open a panel, causing what sounded like glass bottles to rattle within. “Admittedly, drinking it out of a straw will affect the experience, but I trust you’ll all join me in a drink?” She asked, turning around to look at those gathered. Kepler stared at her for a second or two. Maxwell could guess what he was thinking. Why had Command sent somebody like Minkowski?

“Colonel, I think I speak for all of my crew when I say that we all appreciate your hospitality. But I hope you don’t mind if we jump right in,” Kepler said cautiously. Minkowski didn’t turn around, continuing to prepare whatever it was she was doing, as she answered.

“Not at all, Lieutenant.”

“Why… What exactly is your mission? Why are you here?” Kepler asked.

“We’re here because, ten days ago, we received an urgent SOS call via our pulse beacon relay. An urgent SOS call that came from this station,” Minkowski said plainly.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” Kepler asked, sounding unsure.

“We tried. Mr. Cutter tried for a full week to try and get a stable uplink,” Minkowski replied.

“We’re guessing that your pulse beacon receiver got damaged at some point. Either that, or the star’s mood swings are affecting communications,” Lovelace added. It was only at the mention of communications that Maxwell noticed the absence of Eiffel. He hadn’t been on the ship, either, and yet there’d been no sign of him when Maxwell had been leaving.

“When we still hadn’t heard from you, or succeeded in communicating with you, Mr. Cutter asked me to put my best people together post-haste. Spared no expense.” Minkowski’s confidence and pride reminded Maxwell of the confidence that Kepler himself had once had, the confidence that came with believing you were the boss’ favourite. Maxwell found herself wondering if that confidence was destined to die the same way as Kepler’s, leaving behind a jaded, sceptical person, or if her confidence was because she actually was Cutter’s favourite, and knew it.

“How generous of him,” Jacobi deadpanned.

“I’m sure he’s happy to be of assistance,” Minkowski replied. “Lieutenant, Doctor, Mr. Jacobi,” she added as she handed them out their drinks.

“No thanks,” Jacobi said, calmly but firmly. Minkowski raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged.

“More’s the pity. Now, to new friends, and to mission success,” Minkowski declared, lifting her glass in a toast. Maxwell barely lifted hers, before downing it as quickly as she could with the straw. The burn in the back of her throat was welcome. She’d missed the burn of alcohol. Minkowski laughed lightly.

“You two look like you needed that,” she remarked.

“I’d forgotten what it was like,” Kepler replied.

“What about Maxwell? How did you find her?” Jacobi asked.

“Luck, mostly.” Lovelace said, shrugging. “We were just about to leave the Hermes airspace, when something showed up on our long-range scans. We thought it was a blip at first, then it turned out to be an unregistered craft, broadcasting a distress signal, and very nearly on an intercept course with the Hermes,” she explained. Kepler frowned, turning to Maxwell.

“An intercept course with the Hermes? How?” He asked. Maxwell shrugged, staring at the place where her nails had been.

“The hard way,” she said simply.

“It’s a truly remarkable story, really inspirational,” Minkowski announced.

“We all got emotional,” Lovelace added.

“But it’s going to have to wait. We have some questions of our own, and the sooner we get a sitrep, the better for everyone,” Minkowski finished.

“Mostly on what happened when your star turned blue,” Lovelace said simply.

“That’s a long story, and the rest of our crew will be wondering what’s happening,” Kepler said. Minkowski didn’t fall for it.

“Our other crew member will see to them, don’t worry,” Minkowski replied. Kepler raised an eyebrow.

“There’s another one?”

“Oh, yeah. Did they forget to mention that?” Maxwell said, raising an eyebrow.

“Our communications officer. Don’t worry about him, he just needs to get set up and familiarize himself with your communications set-up, and do any adjustments if necessary,” Minkowski explained.

“He really wanted to be here, but given the trouble Mr. Cutter had getting through to you guys, we thought it would be better that he gets set up and identifies any potential problems ASAP,” Lovelace added.

“Now, tell us everything, and make sure not to leave anything out,” Minkowski ordered.

 

“And that’s everything. Since the event, everything’s been nominal. No odd transmissions, no strange astral events,” Kepler concluded.

“Sounds like you guys had a wild ride,” Minkowski remarked.

“That’s an understatement, sir. We’re all very much leaving and getting home,” Kepler said. Minkowski raised an eyebrow and shot a look at Lovelace.

“Leaving? I’m sorry, who exactly will be leaving?” Minkowski asked. She sounded perfectly civil, but danger flashed in her eyes. Maxwell felt sick to her stomach. Even if there wasn’t much left for her on Earth, something about spending any longer on the Hephaestus terrified her. She’d come so close to dying too many times. While these people were obviously extremely competent, it was also clear that they weren’t going to make the danger of living on the station go away. In fact, they were probably only going to make it worse.

“We are,” Kepler said. It wasn’t a question, but a demand. Kepler wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated by this woman. Maxwell realised she was about to witness an unstoppable force encountering an unmovable object, and that it was going to be messy.

“That’s news to me. Lovelace?” Minkowski remarked. Her tone was casual, but the way she was staring at Kepler was far from that.

“I’ve got to say, sir, this is the first I’ve heard of it,” Lovelace responded.

“I’m pretty sure that Mr. Cutter didn’t say anything about anyone leaving. No, I think he instructed us to stay right here,” Minkowski said. Kepler just stared at her. She had never seen him so filled with hatred.

“You said-” Jacobi started.

“I said that we’re here to help. This is the start of Phase Two of the Hephaestus mission,” she announced, and Maxwell felt her stomach begin to plummet towards the star. Phase two? Did that mean they were going to be out there for even longer?

“Phase what?” Kepler asked, Maxwell’s own shock echoed in his voice.

“Nope. Nope, this cannot be happening right now,” Maxwell declared.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” Minkowski said. In that short sentence, the hospitality shattered, replaced by the danger that Maxwell kept seeing glints of. This was why Cutter had sent her.

“You’re damn right it’s not,” Kepler retorted. “This nightmare is over.” Minkowski stared at him for a few seconds, before folding her arms.

“Oh, really? Why is that, Lieutenant?” Her calmness was terrifying.

“For a million reasons. We don’t have the supplies, for a start,” Kepler said.

“The Urania’s hold has more than enough, even with Mr. Jacobi’s unexpected presence. It should last us another 500 days comfortably.” Those words should have been comforting, and yet they weren’t.

“The ship is filled with stress fractures. We won’t last another week,” Jacobi said. His tone was level, but dripping with anger.

“Malleable casing. Adjustable infrastructure,” Minkowski said, slowly and calmly. “The Hephaestus will be better than ever before,” she declared. Maxwell stared at her. She was so confident and so convinced about everything she said. It was a confidence like she’d never seen before. It wasn’t Kepler’s bravado from the start of the mission. It wasn’t a false delusion created by the belief that you were the boss’ favourite. It was created by the fact that you knew you were the boss’ favourite. “Anything else?” She asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I have something to say,” Maxwell said. “Your boss is a complete and utter psychopath. I don’t know what delusion you guys are under, but Cutter has a serious case of antisocial personality disorder. I don’t know or care what bull he filled you with, making you believe in the ‘greater good’ or whatever. I care more about the fact that he let Dr Frankenstein fill me with the death virus to end all death viruses. I care about the fact that he left Jacobi stranded in space for three years. I care about the fact that Hilbert’s priority one mission was to kill everyone on the ship. Command really doesn’t seem to care about us. At all.”

Minkowski looked almost bored, checking her perfectly shaped nails. “And?” She asked. Maxwell just stared at her.

“And? And?” She repeated. Then it hit her. “You knew all of this, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. We’ve got priority clearance, we know all of the secrets on this ship,” Lovelace said, like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Doctor Maxwell, we are at the end of the known universe. We are expanding on every form of science known to man, and potentially even a few new ones. This kind of scientific development doesn’t come easily. The code you wrote on your ship is incredible. It has more uses than any of us can ever imagine. Would you have ever even thought of writing that if you hadn’t ended up stranded in space?” She asked. Maxwell didn’t respond. She felt like she probably wasn’t even supposed to. Regardless, Minkowski kept talking.

“And you may have actually received first contact with alien life. You’re orbiting a star that has displayed phenomena that have never been seen before. And you’ve survived everything that’s been thrown at you. If that doesn’t make you the best people to do this, I don’t know who is. So, Lieutenant, no, you don’t get to go home. Things are changing. This is a new project, with new project leaders. Time to get on board,” she declared.

“And if we don’t?” Kepler asked. Maxwell was bad at taking orders; but Kepler was worse. He wasn’t going to appreciate these newcomers, handpicked by Cutter himself, on his ship. Minkowski stared at Kepler for a few seconds, and Maxwell swore she saw Lovelace rolling her eyes.

“You know, this ship is my pride and joy. It’s the best that Goddard Futuristics has in its fleet. It’s fast, it’s smart, and most importantly, it’s reliable. I know it’ll do exactly what I want it to,” she mused.

“Is there a point to this?” Jacobi asked.

“Yes. If this ship was no longer reliable, I would get rid of it. I would ensure it was destroyed, so it wouldn’t hurt me, my team, or anyone else. I would miss it, but I would carry on. Because there would be another ship that was just as good, if not better. You and your crew? You’re this ship. I don’t want to replace you, but if you endanger me, my crew, or my mission, you can and will be replaced.” She concluded.

“Was that a threat?” Kepler asked.

“What gave it away?” Lovelace retorted.

“I hope you know that we’re not going to be that easy to beat,” Jacobi remarked.

“Oh, no. Not at all. It’s just that we know that we’d win,” Lovelace replied.

“How long has it been since we docked, Captain?” Minkowski asked, looking over at Lovelace.

“Oh, at least forty minutes, sir.”

“Plenty of time for Eiffel to get set up, right? As our Communications Officer, Eiffel’s talents don’t just lie in radio and in pulse beacon relays. He can prevent distress calls from either being transmitted, or from reaching their intended source. They also include distress calls from the ship’s systems. So, if a room you were in started to overheat, or you were in danger… nobody would know,” Minkowski mused. “So you can chose to work with us… or against us.”

“Maxwell stared at her. She now understood why Minkowski was Kepler’s favourite. She was just as ruthless as him. They were the type of people who could kill a person, then discuss the pros and cons of their methods over a glass of whiskey a few hours later. She felt like she was actually going to throw up.

“Come on, Commander,” she said.

“Oh, by the way, you can stop calling him that,” Lovelace remarked as she stepped away from the door. Maxwell, Jacobi and Kepler all stopped, stared at Lovelace, then turned to look at Minkowski.

“Colonel Minkowski will be assuming the post of commander,” Lovelace replied.

“With Captain Lovelace as my second in command,” Minkowski added.

“Lieutenant Kepler will be taking over the role of Navigations Officer,” Lovelace continued. Maxwell wanted to protest, but Kepler cut her off before she could even form the words.

“Let it go, Maxwell,” he said quietly.

“Captain Lovelace, could you show our guests back to Hephaestus proper? Stop by the supply hold and get them a supply package, something nice. Fresh meat, coffee, chocolate…” Minkowski dismissed them by the way of a smile, back to her pleasant self. But the discussion was very clearly over. Maxwell sighed, and followed Lovelace out.

“So… what now?” Maxwell asked, later, once they were finally alone. She’d actually gotten a rare hug from Kepler, although it would probably never be spoken about again.

“We…” Jacobi started, but Hilbert cut him off.

“No. We do not discuss plans openly. Communications officer is highly skilled, we cannot be sure that he is not listening and recording at all times,” he hissed.

“Hera? Can you confirm?” Kepler asked.

“I’m not aware of any outside observation, Lieutenant,” Hera said, but even she didn’t sound too sure.

“I guess that means we just have to play nicely,” Jacobi said.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s… probably the best plan,” Maxwell said. She knew that she should be terrified, that the thought of these people being on her ship should make her nervous. But now that she was back here, with the rest of her crew…. She actually felt somewhat confident. They’d survived everything that had been thrown at them so far, so what was to say they wouldn’t survive this? Sure, it wasn’t going to be easy. The SI-5 team were the most dangerous people she’d ever encountered. But they had Jacobi, who had lost his entire crew, who had been stranded in space for years. They had Kepler, one of the most stubborn men known to the universe in general. They had Hera, who was remarkable beyond any sort of belief. Maxwell hoped they would underestimate her and then learn their lesson from it. And… they had Doctor Alana Maxwell, computational genius, and who could build a battle drone out of Hera’s spare parts if things got really bad.

So yeah. They’d be fine.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am way too proud of myself for that chapter title. 
> 
> Enjoy the new episode, everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to keep this as close to character as possible, but trying to write the cockiest man in the universe without his confidence was easier said than done. So, if it ends up being inaccurate following the events of Season 4, well, at least I tried! 
> 
> Inspired by this post on tumblr. https://flammenkobold.tumblr.com/post/160740877694/role-reversal-au-anyone


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